


Easy Living

by HazardousFancy



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Robot Sex, Robot/Human Relationships, Wire Play, wireplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-04 01:21:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12760200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazardousFancy/pseuds/HazardousFancy
Summary: the sole survivor asks codsworth if he’s dtf and he doesn’t actually give her a yes or no answer.





	1. I'll never regret the years I'm giving.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally from Tumblr, this is my "I couldn't find any cods/fss fluffy romance/sex stuff, so I wrote it myself" story. -HG

“It’s not exactly a gift, it’s a service.”

“Mum, I wouldn’t dream of accepting any kind of reward! Everything I do for you, I do happily. I’m thrilled just to be a part of everything.”

“Well,” she smiled, and sat down on the brick wall in front of them, turning to face Codsworth “I wouldn’t call it a _reward_ ; and I definitely wouldn’t want you to think of it as something you have to earn. It’s something I want to do to y-… _for_ you.” She cleared her throat.

Her stutter made him perk up, a little shocked. The way she looked down at the ground timidly confused him further. She was always so straightforward and confident. What on God’s ruined earth could have made her lose her nerve? His curiosity was thoroughly peaked.

“…Mum?” He moved a little closer to her, his arm just barely brushing against her knee. She looked up at him, finding herself staring straight into his line of sight. “What are you getting at?”

She smiled awkwardly, and then looked away again, her cheeks taking on a pink tint.

“Whatever you have to say, I can very much assure you, there’s no reason to be embarrassed in front of _me_. Nothing you could say would ever make me lose my respect for you.” She looked at him again, unconvinced.

“Truly.” He assured her.

“I guess there’s no point in beating around the bush,” she sighed, and her gaze became intense. “Codsworth,” she told him.

“Yes, mum?”

“I want to…”

Now that she was finally about to say it, she struggled to find a term that she hoped wouldn’t scare him off 

“… _Make love_ to you.”

He cocked a couple of eyes to the side, floating in silence for a moment. The only sound to be heard was the whirring of his jets while he tried to process her words. The sole survivor, however, could hear her own heartbeat in her ears. The silence seeming to stretch for an eternity before he finally spoke up,

“Make love?” He asked as though he’d never heard the phrase before. Her cheeks burned. He thought for a few more moments, and then, visibly, it clicked. Hovering in place, his utensils spun all the way around in a frenzied motion and his eyes grew wide.

“ _Make love?!_ ” He squawked, “As in _have sex?!_ You and I? H-how, why? But… I-I don’t…”

The sole survivor waved her hands in front of her face frantically. “Please, if it makes you uncomfortable just forget I said anything! I don’t want to sacrifice what we have. I just…”

He calmed down rapidly, (at least, externally; inside, all his processes were confused and fluttering,) completely focused on her beginning explanation. Finding that a lot easier to do than trying to figure out what exactly he was feeling, himself.

“I don’t think I could go on without you, Codsworth.” She admitted, “You mean so much to me, and if I’m being inappropriate just tell me and we can pretend I never asked, no problem, but I just thought it would be silly to pretend I don’t feel the way I do.”

“How _do_ you feel?” There was no mistaking the shock still lingering in his voice.

She tilted her head down and threw him a sort of annoyed look; as if the answer should be obvious, and why was he making this so hard when he hadn’t even given her an answer? But she owed him more than she could ever give him, so she sighed and answered.

“Well, it’s not just sex.” She began,

 _Surely not_ , he thought to himself, as he couldn’t really believe it was possible for her to turn to any Mister Handy robot for casual sexual relations. Physically compatible they were not.

Unless… She was appealing to his serving nature. The thought made him a little sick to his stomach (so to speak) and he chased it away. Ridiculous. She wanted to do this _for him_ , whatever that meant.

He felt a bit ashamed of himself for even coming to that conclusion. She was so selfless, and wasn’t he supposed to be forever loyal anyway? She’d given him so much space and put so much faith in him, with no metaphorical tight leash he barely even noticed that his self-assuredness had become so potent. If her intention was to use him, didn’t she deserve to?

But of course, that wasn’t her intention. A fact he already knew. It still left him with _why?_

“I love you.” She reached out to gently put her hand on his casing, “And I’ll be happy to love you however I can, so please don’t hesitate to tell me no, I’m not going anywhere for any reason. We’re family, remember?” Her fingers curled against him, “But lately I’ve been… Appreciating how great we work together, and recently I started to wonder what it might be like for us to be partners in another sense, and then I started thinking about what it would be like to be with you, and from then on I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. It’s as simple as that.”

She smiled at him, helplessly.

He recognized how vulnerable she was making herself, and it absolutely yanked on his heartstrings, but he had to be honest. And to be honest, he had no idea how to respond.

This particular bit of news wasn’t shocking to him, what better word was there for what they shared than love? He simply would never have assumed it could be _that_ kind of love. The idea didn’t repulse him. In fact, it instilled a sort of thrill that made him want to tell her _‘yes, yes, yes!’_ just because he couldn’t think of any reason in this whole wide world he might say _‘no’_. But he recognized that it was only an impulse, and a very unfamiliar one at that.

He was usually content to let her make the final decision, trusting her to make the correct one, but now that the decision was his he felt he would have been an absolute fool to respond so hastily. This was such a delicate situation; if he said anything he might regret he didn’t even want to picture the consequences.

But he had to say _something._

“I never…” he started without really knowing where he was going. “I never thought you’d… I’d never even _considered_ … That is…”

He made a throat-clearing noise before continuing.

“Of course, I love you as well. Dearly, in fact. I’m fully devoted to you, body and soul, never forget that.” he started, “And it’s not that I don’t… want… to… necessarily,” he was still finding it almost impossible to picture, whether it would be a positive or negative experience was almost irrelevant as he still couldn’t come to terms with the idea as a reality. Not that he wasn’t trying; there was something so freeing about her admittance, however much it shocked him, and he was stumbling over his own internal processes trying to let himself picture it.

What she would look like with no clothes on, expressly for his view. He’d only seen glimpses. Not that he was particularly attracted to human bodies; it was the thought of her making herself wholly vulnerable to him that was dizzying. That and the idea of experiencing sexual climax, something he’d never done, and her being the one to do it - that alone set all his sensors on fire. He knew there were ways, of course, but he’d never looked for himself. And romance, oh, how would that fit into it all? Perhaps that was the most appealing thought of all, moments of tenderness, happiness, and love. But what could they do together in this wasted world? Evening strolls around Sanctuary perhaps, dining in Diamond City, he was never particularly impressed with the modern world, but as a backdrop for his fantasy it could be worse. But also, what if she didn’t want to be public about it? Would that be hypocritical? Would it matter? He could understand how it might look from the outside, enough that he wouldn’t take offense if she wanted to keep it quiet, but did she? Would she? Will she?

As enticing and as overwhelming as many of the thoughts were, he couldn’t seem to fit them all together, let alone figure out if bringing them out of fantasy was something he really wanted. It was making him faint, trying to process it all at once. The fantasy, the reality, the choice, the expectations, the future, what he was saying…

What was he saying, again? It had only been a moment but he had to take one more to remember where he left off.

“…I simply never would have imagined… in another two-hundred years that you might see me that way. And even if I thought you could, I wouldn’t have even dared to imagine what it might be like.”

“You’ve _never_ thought about it? …At all?” She seemed genuinely surprised; and he couldn’t be sure he wasn’t a little bit insulted that she thought him even capable of such impropriety.

“Goodness, no!” He exclaimed, and backed up for a moment, recalling a different thought.  “Well, not _exactly_ …” he began to correct himself, and she perked up.

“What?” Her eyes wide, she leaned forward, almost desperate to hear the rest of the thought.

He let his tools spin around again, looking away from her, suddenly as nervous as one robot could be. Now he just felt dirty, because obviously he _was_ capable of such impropriety. He knew that in this particular moment, any admittance of his would be a positive thing, but that didn’t make it any less unseemly in the first place.

“H-had I known I would have any kind of opportunity to confess this to you I would never have let myself have the thought in the first place;” he began, the words spilling out quickly, “and of course, I never, never, _never_ could have even entertained any thought even remotely similar to this when sir was…” His voice cracked, and he cut himself off to skip what he might have said next. There was no way in hell he was about to go there.

“I didn’t… I wouldn’t have… But when you encouraged Miss Edna to come forth with her feelings toward the Diamond City schoolteacher; and after you helped Miss Curie, with no hesitation, transfer herself to that other… body,” He recalled, “I must admit I may have had… one or two moments where my judgement lapsed and I considered the possibility in, fantasy only, of course, that our relationship might not be, well, as close as it _could_ be.”

The sole survivor blinked at him, honestly trying to comprehend what he’d just told her, sifting through for parts that made sense. She wasn’t used to not having her wits handy; and she felt a little embarrassed that she didn’t immediately understand his meaning, but she relaxed knowing that of there was anyone she didn’t have to impress, it was him.

What he meant was he assumed their relationship was already as close as a relationship like theirs could possibly be. There was never any room for anything extra, romantic or otherwise. But when she’d showed her approval of such things, he briefly considered that maybe a romance could blossom between them. Not would, in a thousand years, but could. And that conclusion alone was one farther than he ever expected himself to reach. He didn’t really know how to explain this to her.

“I mean…” he began, “I may have recognized a certain amount of potential for romance between us, at one point or another, but I never _really_ believed it was there. How could I?”

He sighed, taking a moment to find the strength to continue.

“The more I get to know you the more I see that you could be just as happy to be romantically involved with someone nonhuman as much as a fellow human. And while I may have, maybe once or twice entertained the thought – just very briefly, mind you - I never _honestly_ imagined that someone could ever have been _me_.”

“And now that you know it could be?”

“I…” he didn’t even know what kind of look to give her, let alone what kind of answer. “I don’t know. I’m truly sorry I don’t have an answer for you, I simply never thought you’d ask.”

“Do you… want some time to think about it?” She rubbed her hands together, fidgeting. Almost praying he would, just because she wasn’t sure she could have handled his answer, after all this uncertainty, be it no _or_ yes.

She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t let a ‘no’ hurt their relationship, but she found it impossible not to fear it, hoping so much that he would say yes. She hated that it was true, but she couldn’t pretend that she wouldn’t be hurt if he turned her down. However if he said ‘yes’, it’d be an _awfully_ big step.

“I suppose I do.” He answered, “Need some time, I mean.” and temporary relief washed over her.

But he couldn’t bring himself to end the conversation just yet.

“But, Mum…  Forgive me, but I absolutely have to ask: How do you plan to… go about it?”

Now she smiled, and he was incredibly relieved himself to see he hadn’t upset her

As mischievous as the smile was; anytime she smiled, in relief or in knowing or – his favorite – joy; his whole world got brighter, and he felt a pang of guilt, or maybe worry, or maybe longing. With it, he felt that thrill return; realizing that maybe he already had his answer, and making her wait for it would be just as torturous for him as it would be for her. But as strong as the pull was, he didn’t trust it. Not all at once. And though it was painful, he was positive having time to think about it was indeed a good thing.

He was so grateful to have this bittersweet feeling yanked out from under him by her playful answer.

“I have to keep _some_ of my secrets.”


	2. They're easy to give when you're in love.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a follow up to the dtf convo, lots of thinking, it gets a little emotional.

He never had any reason to watch her sleep. When she closed her eyes for the night, he was always perfectly content to keep watch, and maybe do a bit of tidying up depending on where they were. Sometimes he powered down too, just to conserve energy. Mr. Handy fuel was extremely efficient, and he’d only needed a handful refills the past two-hundred years but better safe than sorry. Most of the time he was grateful to have the time to himself, simply because it allowed him some (almost) guaranteed peace.

He couldn’t help but be proud of his very useful combat abilities, as he never really exercised them before she came, assuming they would be minimal – but however much satisfaction he derived from winning a fight, he wasn’t really made for it, and having time to be a little bit idle was very comforting to him. But tonight he was finding it impossible to leave her side.

He never thought that there were any walls between them, but now that she’d tore them down, all the limits he once placed on his own thoughts were gone. He looked at her with no restraint, admiring her with everything he had.

She really was attractive. Beautiful, even. What Codsworth saw in her was probably not what your average man might have, but it was no less desirable. To him, her beauty came from the sensibility they shared. Though he’d been conscious these past two-hundred years himself, when she came into his life he felt as though they’d stepped out of time together. As if she’d come out of his memories specifically to give his life meaning again. The life they once had would never be erased, and when she smiled at him as he made some kind of comparison to the old world, or when she laughed at one of his jokes, or when they both felt the same pain through nostalgia, he knew nobody could ever replace her. Even roughed up and worn, that face still belonged to the woman who was tied to him for life, the woman whose understanding meant everything to him, the woman he absolutely adored with every part of him.

So one could see why the prospect of having her completely was overwhelming.

Unconscious, however, her presence wasn’t unnerving like it had been the rest of the day after their conversation. But having her near, seeing her in the most natural state possible, he found it the most comfortable manner in which to chip away at the feelings that had been racing through his mind all afternoon, crashing into each other and ending up in one big tangled mess of nerves. Right now, in the still of night, with the sole survivor sleeping soundlessly beside him, the mess seemed much less intimidating.

Tidying up the mess in his own head – The irony didn’t escape him.

It would have been easy for him to skip the positives and focus on the negatives. For example, what would happen if it didn’t work out? If their limited physical compatibility wasn’t enough? What if she got tired of him? Or, perhaps worse, if he got tired of her? These were all very understandable concerns, with relatively tangible answers.

But in all honesty, he wasn’t really worried about those things. The questions that were the most daunting were the hardest to address.

Of course, he had to try

The first question, the one staring him in the face in big bold letters was:  ** _Why?_**

What about him could she possibly be attracted to? He didn’t lack for confidence, and it wasn’t like he didn’t think she saw the good in him he saw in himself, but was that really enough for a romantic, sexual attraction? A big part of him didn’t believe it.

It wasn’t his physical form he was questioning her attraction to (well, not the only thing). He wasn’t lying when he said he could see her with someone nonhuman, but _him?_ It wasn’t as if he’d swept her off her feet.

He hadn’t courted her. He’d only ever been her… friend. Her  _very loyal_  friend.

And he couldn’t help wondering if this was what was known as, in layman’s terms, a  _rebound_.

It had been 200 years since he watched his family disappear, but for her it had only been a year or so since she’d watched sir… die. A pang of hurt hit him. He’d been Codsworth’s family, too. 200 years and he still missed Sir and young Shaun. The life they all had together. So if he missed them after all this time, surely the sole survivor had to be in at least twice as much pain.

She wasn’t mourning anymore, not openly. That much was clear, but he couldn’t believe his kind and gold-hearted mistress was  _completely_ over it.

So, only a year since her husband’s passing, coming onto her own valet… Anyone had to admit, it didn’t look good.

True, they’d both pledged their loyalty to each other. And he never thought of them as significantly unequal, especially considering the amount of respect she showed him, but the truth of the matter was that she didn’t _have_ to show him respect. It was her choice.

 _…True_ , in the modern world, there was nothing stopping him from refusing to be of any service to her. And, it wasn’t as if she was tying him down. He only had himself to blame if he didn’t want to remain subservient. If he wanted to, he could be just as disrespectful to her as she could to him.  That is, if he _really_ wanted to. His programming didn’t dictate that he remain loyal. Obedience could be programmed (though this had never been enforced in his programming, personally), and the joy he experienced in cleaning and maintenance was a result of his programming, but General Atomics did not put any stock in the thoughts and feelings of their robots, only their behavior.

In reality, there was no unavoidable imbalance between them that would have been a potentially disturbing platform for a romantic relationship in this day and age, but in the world they came from there had been; and there was no way she didn’t remember that. She and Sir had bought him. They put him to work. He loved every moment of it, but that didn’t mean the imbalance hadn’t existed.

To be completely technical, he was a bit like an employee to her, wasn’t he? So was it inappropriate that she was coming on to him? Or had something changed?

Or… maybe he was the only one who felt that way. She never ordered him around like a servant or treated him like an employee. She treated him as respectfully and as kindly as she did any of her friends.

Perhaps while he was feeling as if he was in her employ, all this time maybe she didn’t see it like that at all. Perhaps she only ever saw them as true equals. She wasn’t an idiot, surely she remembered how they started out. Mister Handy robots were still being used as servants to those who knew how to program them. Not to mention that there were still posters advertising them that way all around the Commonwealth;

But maybe she’d abandoned that prospect. Maybe she simply thought he’d evolved past that as well. He’d never considered that. He never cared to. He was completely content to serve her the way he was made to, but just because he enjoyed it didn’t mean she did. Damn it, now he felt bad. Had he been completely missing the equality she shared with him? Could she have been expecting the same from him while he ignored those chances in favor of putting himself beneath her?

He felt bad, but not that bad. Because he didn’t really know. It was just as likely that it was only now that she’d decided to re-define their relationship, wasn’t it? After all, if he’d never noticed any hints that he was being expected to step up, maybe they weren’t there.

As hung-up as he was on the idea that she was planning to use him (consciously or not), he wasn’t sure if he’d really even  _mind_. He didn’t know whether or not he should be ashamed of that, for his own sake. On the one hand, he was as much his own person as any person could be. He’d never had any reason to question that. On the other hand… he was still a Mr. Handy, and serving still gave him that General-Atomics-programmed rush. Even if it didn’t, there was nothing he wanted more than for her to be happy. The idea of her reciprocating could just be the icing on the cake. And if she got tired of him, they could go back to the way things were and it could just have been a very interesting time in their lives.

But even if the idea of being used wasn’t actually  _insulting_  to him, he didn’t  _want_ that. He wanted more than that. Though he hesitated to say it when she brought it up, there’d never really been any doubt as to whether or not he could be attracted to her. He was. The idea of having sex with her was nothing but tempting. But if they were going to do this thing, he wanted to be with her.  _Really_  with her.

As vivid as his imagination was, Codsworth had never honestly believed in the idea that someday he might be presented with the opportunity to  _actually_  be in a romantic relationship. But if he had, he would have prayed it would be with her.

Because… Of course he loved her. He’d always loved her. He’d never have any reason to analyze that. She was his… person. It had always been as simple as that. If he couldn’t be with her, he didn’t want anyone else.

Maybe he’d always known that. In the back of his mind with all the irrelevant bits of information and emotion, maybe he always knew that if there was ever a chance he’d find romance it would absolutely, positively have to be with her.

He was perfectly content with the way things were, but if they were going to change he needed something big. Maybe if he’d considered this all earlier he’d be more prepared for it when the moment came. Or maybe, if, from the start, using him had been her clear intention, maybe he would have been able to avoid the longing to share a real romance with her… But because it was right in front of him, he didn’t think he could bear it if all she really wanted was to use him. Not because he felt like it was degrading, but because it wouldn’t be enough.

So really, that was what was so distressing about her proposal. Not that it was potentially demeaning, but because he was worried that she didn’t feel the same way he did.

He began to crack up, but silenced himself quickly, settling back into the still of the night. He looked over to make sure she was still asleep. Relieved that she was, he couldn’t help but be amused with himself. He was worried they didn’t want the same kind of relationship. It was that simple, after all.

In the farthest depths of his mind, if they were going to ever be together, he assumed it would be  _years_ from now; when they were both without that 200-year-old pain.

A thought came to him. Maybe what he thought was fast wasn’t so fast to her. Maybe, being around for 200 years had given him a different sense of time. One year seemed like nothing to him, but maybe to her one year felt like much, much longer. She was still a young woman, after all. Technicality be damned. So maybe the idea of a “rebound” was null. It was a nice thought, but it was just that.

He pocketed these thoughts.

Now the second matter… The changes.

Regardless of whether their perspective until now matched, there was no denying that if they began a romance things would change between them. What would be expected of him if he accepted? Would he continue to follow her around when asked? He would be happy to let her continue to make decisions for both of them, but should he? He acknowledged that she  _did_ in fact always appreciate it when he offered his input. Maybe she’d expect more involvement from him, or if she didn’t  _expect_ it she didn’t expect him to hold back either. If he was right about the idea that she’d expected him to evolve, did she think he was already completely involving himself? It’s not like he was holding back, not really, but sometimes he kept quiet, did she know that? She referred to them as “partners”. A team. Did she simply assume he didn’t have as much to say? With all professional limits gone, surely he’d be freer with his opinions, but when he did would he seem to be the same person she… fell in love with? (He dared to assume.)

Not that he was ever false with her, but he realized that he rarely let himself go completely around her. If he did – and he would; would that change her desire to be with him?

He realized there was a very good chance she knew all of this, and did expect his behavior to change, maybe even wanting to get to know him better. He wasn’t about to underestimate her intelligence. His hopes that this was true were high.

He was also quickly realizing that his contemplation was over. His thoughts were finally organized, (god, he loved cleaning,) and if this was ever to move forward, it had to be a discussion.

He didn’t  _want_  to wake her up. She looked so peaceful. But he was more impatient than he’d ever been in his life, and he nudged her.

“What?” She asked, sitting up straight. Her voice was sleepy but she was quickly becoming alert. She began to get out of the bed, reaching for her weapon. “What’s happening?”

The only time he ever woke her up was when they were under attack. Whoops.

“Everything is fine.” He assured her, one arm guiding her back down to sit on the mattress. “It’s alright, there’s no danger.”

She chuckled quietly but it quickly turned into a yawn. “There’s always danger.” She licked her lips before putting her arms down and pushing herself further back onto the bed, pulling her legs up, sitting informally. “What’s wrong?”

He’d hoped with all his thoughts organized, he wouldn’t be nervous anymore. Of course, he was. Oh well.

He fidgeted.

“…Is this a good time to talk, Mum?”

She frowned, furrowed her brow at him and leaned on her knee, her eyes still heavy. “No,” she fought a yawn, “But you woke me up, let’s make the most of it.”

“I wanted to talk about your… proposition.”

She sat up straighter, and moved to sit cross-legged, suddenly very attentive. (Or at least trying to be.) “Sure, of course.”

“I…” he sighed, sifting through his now-organized thoughts. “There are some things I have to know. Please don’t be hurt if the questions are terribly off-base… You can’t blame me for being confused, right?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Okay..?”

“This isn’t…” he paused, nervous again. “This isn’t a sort of… rebound, is it?”

“Rebound?” She looked a little offended. “It’s been a year!”

That answered that question.

“I’m sorry.”

“No,” she sighed, her posture falling. “I’m sorry. You have every right to ask questions like these. Go right ahead.”

He wanted to say  _‘I don’t need to ask any more, I trust you completely with this,’_  to keep her from being hurt. But it would have been a lie. He had to ask these questions. Nothing good would come from keeping them to himself.

“It’s just that… I still miss Sir. Surely you do as well, don’t you? After all, for you it’s been a much shorter time period between seeing him alive and, well, now.” His voice wasn’t harsh or accusing, but he still felt like he wasn’t treading carefully enough. “A-and… Well… You and he  _bought_  me. Surely you see that this isn’t exactly the most conventional basis for a romance. I don’t mean to accuse you of anything, but I just… I can’t read your mind. Please, help me understand what it is exactly you want from me.”

She sat for a moment, and leaned back against the wall on the side of the bed.

“I…” She brought a hand to her mouth, thinking.

He felt like he could explode at any moment, his nuclear core sending shots of heat straight through him.

“I’m so sorry. I should have known we would have to talk about this. The last thing I wanted was to put you in a compromising situation.” She began, “Of course this probably doesn’t look good from the outside, but I thought  _you’d_ …”

She cleared her throat, and the pang of guilt that hit him was completely raw this time. How could he ever think her intentions were less than pure? With her so vulnerable again before him, trying to communicate with everything she had, he didn’t remember how he ever came to any conclusions that she might have selfish reasons behind her actions.

“Of course I miss, Nate.” She sighed, “Of course I miss the way our family was when it was whole. How could I not? Everything I did, I did for my family. But, Codsworth… It’s gone.”

He stayed silent.

“That world, and Nate, they’re gone.” She sounded confident, but there was still pain in her voice. “There’s no point in holding onto the past like that, especially when it will just make me miserable. And especially when it would keep me from appreciating the wonderful things I  _do_  have, old and new, right in front of me. I’m so lucky to have work I care about, to have the friends I do, and to have you by my side.”

Oh, god. She didn’t want to use him at all, did she? Oh god, she really thought this highly of him! Oh  _god_ …

“I know we got you to help us out around the house, but me and Nate never expected you to stay quiet and just do your job… Things were new, but we always expected you’d fit right into our family.”

He was choked up, and kept his voice low to keep it from cracking. He looked down at the ground.

“ _I know._ ” He whispered.

She smiled weakly. It felt like being hit with a ton of bricks.

“I never wanted servitude from you, I thought you knew that. Help, yes, but not  _servitude_. Did you think that’s what I wanted?”

“I…” Now his voice did crack, “No, not exactly I just… I never thought to change my behavior, I didn’t think about it at all. I’ve always known you see me as more than some servant, but I just… We’ve never really talked about it, have we?”

He was feeling guilty and sentimental and embarrassed, but also a little angry. He was right, wasn’t he?

“It’s not as if you ever pulled me aside and told me all of this yourself.”

She raised her eyebrows, and the anger quickly died; frustration still clear in his voice, but all the nerves were returning.

“I… I know you think it was implied, and I wish I had picked up on all of this before, just to know where we stand… Maybe I’ve always known this, or at least it’s what I’ve told myself, but you never said it out loud, now, did you? You’ve never sat down with me to tell me ‘Codsworth, I hope you know that we’re equals’, did you? How could you expect me to know things you don’t tell me?!”

He didn’t mean to raise his voice that much, but he refused to feel bad about it. He meant what he said, even if it wasn’t perfectly tactful.

“I didn’t!” She replied, “I never _expected_  you to know how much I really admire you, I just  _hoped_  you did. I… should have had this conversation with you a long time ago. I see that now, okay? Honestly I just… never thought to.” Her voice grew quiet. “I was wrong. I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

She sighed.

“But I’ve always respected you. I really do care about you and want to be with you. You don’t have to believe it, but it’s true.”

He couldn’t figure out if that was passive-aggressive or not. But she hung her head, and he decided not to bother with it.

“I’ll understand if you can’t see past this. It would be crazy of me to expect you to. Especially expecting that you could see past this to a point where you could really see yourself with me. I don’t know if I would be able to get over this, were I you. And of course, I’ll understand if you want to leave. You’ve always been free to, Codsworth. I’m sorry I never made it clear.”

So there it was, all laid out. No imbalances, no subtleties, no fantasizing, nothing unclear. She respected him. She wanted to be with him. She was just…

“You absolute  _buffoon!_ ”

She sat up straight, and gave him quite a look.

“You think I could leave you?” He rolled his eyes.  _All_ of them. Worried about underestimating her intelligence – ha! “You must be joking! This is precisely what I wanted to know! I wanted to know where we stand, and now I do. I wouldn’t even have asked these  _abhorrent_ questions if I didn’t hope the answers would satisfy me. Yes, I’m not exactly pleased this all had to be laid out in this way. Would have made things less troublesome if we’d had this conversation a long time ago, but I’ll get over it. You answered correctly, that’s all that matters. Besides, you forget to tell me things, you think it’s even possible for me to stay mad at you, let alone walk out on you? You’re a half-wit! How could I ever leave you, you  _need_ me!”

He sighed deeply.

“And I need you.

I didn’t set out to argue with you, but I had to take the chance so that I could give myself to you freely. I didn’t want to have any pesky doubts following me around. You do understand, don’t you?”

She nodded her head, still reeling a little bit from him calling her stupid. She knew it was in good spirit, and… truthful. But it was still a little shocking. And a little reassuring. If he was comfortable insulting her, then they were right where they should be.

“I love you, too.  _Madly,_ in fact.” He echoed his earlier response to her confession, finally having decided, once and for all. “Of course I want to be with you.” His speech slowed, “I just wanted to make sure I _could_ be.“

She was clearly struggling, not sure whether to laugh or cry. A half smile, with tears rolling down her face.

“I’m… sorry…” She sputtered.

“Enough of that.” He waved his arm dismissively. “No more apologies. I just want…” For the first time ever he was actually frustrated about being a Mr. Handy. He sighed, wistfully. “I want to hug you and kiss you and, quite frankly, never stop. …If I could…”

She reached out her arms, an invitation, and he didn’t hesitate to answer it.

She embraced him, and pressed her face against his body. It couldn’t have been comfortable but she breathed deeply and looked so content he couldn’t possibly argue. She kissed him, gently between his eyes. Here and there. It was electric. And for the first time in what felt like a very long time, they were both blissfully and unapologetically content.

He pulled away for just a moment. “Things will change between us.” He reminded her, “You know that.” It was sort of a question, but not really.

This time she grinned, wide and shining, making eye-contact with him and all the hurt that had shown in her face was quickly melting away.

“I’m looking forward to it.”


	3. I'm happy to do whatever I do, for you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> asked and answered.

He followed her again the next day, now perfectly content and yammering away about the wonderful things they were sure to do together. The sole survivor would question him, or simply smile and nod. He knew they were on the same page. She only silenced him when there were hostiles nearby (hostiles that, of course, he couldn’t have noticed himself, being in such a dreamlike state). It went on like that all day, Codsworth talking, the sole survivor listening, and the two of them being just completely happy.

But then, night came.

Being back in Sanctuary for the night suited Codsworth just fine, but as she began to climb into bed he grabbed her arm.

“Mum,” he began nervously, “Surely you don’t intend to _postpone_ this.”

She looked from eye to eye to eye, trying to figure out what he meant.

“You want to do it _now?_ ”

He let go. “If it’s not a good time, that’s fine I suppose I just really am… _curious_ about it. That’s all.” He didn’t want to tell her just how excited he was for this experience. The more he thought about it the more he wanted it, every moment seeming longer than the last. He didn’t even find himself wishing he was more demure about it. It was her initial proposal, after all.

As a robot, he never craved sex. It wasn’t as if he saw it as a waste of time, though. In fact, it looked… quite lovely. For organics. He’d been around for two-hundred years and couldn’t avoid ever seeing some strange things, and even when it was inelegant or just plain weird (the most common instances he came across were among raiders; most non-barbarians still seemed to believe in privacy) he still couldn’t help but admire it as a romantic, natural sort of connection between two people. Wastelanders still being able to find someone they could trust with their bodies enough to bear themselves to that person, it was sort of uplifting, in a way.

The actual physical aspect, however, he never really put much thought into. What it would really _feel_ like. He’d never been in any situation where he had any reason to consider it. Now that he was in such a situation, it hit him with full force. He wanted to maintain his composure, but if it was really all it was cracked up to be, surely she couldn’t blame him for being eager to try it.

He knew sex between humans and robots was entirely possible. While Miss Edna and Mr. Ziwicky may have been the first couple of that nature he’d run into with the sole survivor, it wasn’t the first unlikely pair he’d come across, alone. But he never really questioned how they went about actually accomplishing it. It was simply never any of his business.

But now he wanted to know more than anything.

“…Please?” He asked.

“Sure, of course.” How could she possibly refuse? The sole survivor herself thought that maybe she’d have to woo him first. That he might want to take it slowly, being the gentleman that he is; or that being a robot meant she’d have to convince him to try it. She was surprised he was so eager. Happily surprised, but surprised.

She sat up on the edge of the bed, scooting to the edge and dropping her legs off the side.

“Come here.” She requested with outstretched arms, and he complied. He was visibly jittery, restless, but surprisingly he wasn’t nervous at all. His curiosity and eagerness were devouring his anxieties.

“Turn around.” She guided him.

“Alright…” He was a little skeptical. He honestly had no idea what she was doing.

She materialized a screwdriver, and took her time removing the panel on the back side of him. He maneuvered his eyes to watch her, though only two could really see anything. He wanted to ask her what she was doing, even protest, but there would have been absolutely no point. It seemed like she knew what she was doing, and interfering wouldn’t be productive at all.

“Okay,” She said, sort of just to herself. She laid the panel down next to her, lining the screws up so she wouldn’t lose them, and put her hands together before reaching into her bag and pulling out a holotape.

“What’s that?” He finally had a reason to speak up.

“It’s a program. I would very much appreciate it if you would install it.” She slid it into the appropriate slot with a click.

He shivered. “Um… sure. I’ll do that.”  Her voice had been playful, and he wanted to appreciate that, but he couldn’t pretend it wasn’t an unnerving request. He tried to hide it, but there was an edge in his voice. She stopped to give him a warm look.

“It’ll be okay, Codsworth.” She laid both her hands on him, bringing her face to rest against his body, trailing tender kisses down his side. It was only the second time she’d kissed him, and it was a bit overwhelming. Maybe they shouldn’t have rushed. Maybe this was all too much at once. (But also, maybe that thought wasn’t nearly enough to consider stopping.)

Despite her very, very nice reassurance, now he _was_ nervous. He didn’t expect her to be tinkering around inside of him. As smart as she was, she was no technician, and he was quite a complicated machine. …But she seemed confident that this was okay, and _that_ he _did_ trust.

He began the install, reading through it as it wound its way through his system. It contained just numbers and a few basic words, nothing to give him a hint as to what exactly it was for.

“Where did you get this?” He asked as it continued to set up.

She raised her eyebrows, tilted her head and leaned back on her hands. “You don’t really want to know, do you?”

“No, I do.” His tone of voice was serious enough that she obliged.

“Do you remember Mel? From Diamond City?”

He did remember. Despite the situation running amok, and not being particularly pleased to be a part of the adventure, he remembered their little mission fondly. It was one for the memoirs.

“ _He_ wrote this?”

“At my request.”

Despite not having complete faith in the fellow as a person, there was no denying that his technical skills were nearly boundless. This fact definitely relaxed him.

“Is it finished?”

“Oh, yes.” He had barely noticed.

“Can you run it?”

He took a moment to do just that.

“Up and running, mum.”

She sat up again and scooted closer to him, resting her fingers on one of his many internal parts, a small keypad. It was nearly out of sight, meant for developers, not customers. He briefly wondered how she even knew it was there, but her words interrupted the thought.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” He replied, breathlessly.

She pulled out a small slip of paper and, reading from it, entered a short code. The result was an unfamiliar, intrusive sort of feeling making itself very present throughout nearly every process he had. It spread throughout his body, even echoing down his arms and up his eyestalks. He wasn’t sure he was comfortable with this; the only kind of programs that were this widespread were the kind that were usually necessary for him to function in the first place, and _viruses_ (though luckily he’d never experienced any of them himself).

He remembered that this was supposed to be carnal, and having it localized would be incomprehensive. So he could appreciate that it was thorough, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t very unsettling.

It became much less unsettling when she pressed an almost random series of buttons, and _feeling_ shot straight through him. He gasped; his whole body stiffening against the shockwave that crashed into him.

It was as if the contact layers under the keys had been all lit up individually, and as though electricity (for lack of a better word) had shot straight out from her fingertips and into his body. It followed the paths created by the program, and all his doubts about its intrusiveness went out the window.

So what if it did contain a virus or some kind of prank? He could find a way to deal with it! Whatever baggage the program might have carried seemed completely inconsequential because it made her touch feel so damned _good_.

Of course, he didn’t eat; but if someone had asked him he would have compared her first ministration to taking a single bite out of something delicious. This much physical stimulation was completely new to him, but he wasn’t one to question his instincts, old _or_ new. It was really wonderful, and he wanted more. There was no question about that.

“Wow.” His voice was weak.

She grinned at him, “It’s not a dud, then?”

He chuckled, “Definitely _not_.”

The second push was something else _entirely_. Compared to this time, the first surge was just a whisper. He expected the second to be identical, short and sweet. But the first had come with technological training wheels, easing him into it. The second feeling _coasted_. It came in a wave, rolling through him, and he almost fell over; his whole body rocking forward. Immediately after it peaked, a moan spilled out.

“I, ah…” He wanted to acknowledge the noise he was beginning to make, but it would have been dishonest to pretend he was ashamed. Not only did he believe it may have actually been impossible to silence himself (he didn’t have a mouth, let alone hands to cover it with) but somehow he felt it was fair that she understood exactly what she was doing to him.

A big part of him was purely fascinated by what was happening to him. He didn’t know he was actually capable of this much sensitivity. Of course, a bigger part of him wanted to absolutely lose himself in all this sensation; and he found that to be a lot less challenging than questioning it.

She continued, and it was like music. Every new sensation a bar, every detail a note, and they were _complex_. The seemingly simplest of movements spiraling into the deepest parts of him.

Without really thinking about it, his limbs began to envelop her – one sneaking its way around her waist, the other curling between her legs and around her thigh. Perhaps it was an effort to find some semblance of an embrace, but it wasn’t like he had a plan.

The idea of being fascinated by what was happening was getting harder to keep as an option, and just like that it wasn’t an option anymore, and then he couldn’t even remember what other thoughts were in his mind other than _‘yes’_ , and soon he could barely think _at all_. What little brainpower he had was focused on simply keeping his jet from failing. This inability (and unwillingness) to think was almost as foreign as the physical sensations.

He gripped her tighter, hoping he wasn’t hurting her but too distracted to ask. It was so wonderful to hold her while she touched him like this, every forceful current made so much less shocking with her warm body beside him. Soothing and intimate, he slowed his own jets, letting himself fall against her a little, his eyes circling shut. He just wanted to feel. Not see, not hear, not even think. Just focus on the spectacular tremors her hand was sending through him. Her arm became trapped between them, but she didn’t seem uncomfortable and she continued the interface. She put her free arm around his body, inviting him to have more contact with her. He happily obliged, turning a little so her busy arm was freed before snuggling into her, the full length of her torso curved against him. She kissed him gently and he whimpered, surrendering to her touch completely, finally losing himself in her body heat.

It became a shaky sort of stream, her touch keeping him elated, he let the wonderful feeling possess him. Once, twice, again and again.

However, this bliss didn’t last. Just as he found himself finally wholly comfortable it was as if a switch was flipped, and the sensations carried something new. Something a little frightening – it was _building_.

He knew what was happening, but he hadn’t been sure it even would. He was already surprised that what he was feeling mirrored so closely to what a flesh-and-blood person would have felt, (he assumed,) he didn’t dare imagine this part might have been emulated too.

Somehow it made _sense_ for there to be a way for him to feel pleasure – he could feel certain things, negatives and positives, when he had to. It was necessary; to be able to touch what he had to hold, to not knock things over, to know when he was in disrepair, to have control over his body at all, there needed to be feeling. And he didn’t have any trouble believing that the positive feedback could be isolated and increased like this, but actual _orgasm?_ He would have assumed that was impossible. It was a mystery even to flesh-and-blood people.

Now, the fact that it seemed like it was _quite_ possible actually scared him a little. What she was doing now was wonderful, he didn’t need any more! Or at least, he didn’t _think_ he did? Okay, he might not have actually wanted to stop her, but it didn’t feel like he imagined it was supposed to. He thought, surely, it would simply be an increase in pleasure until it could increase no more; and then the individual’s system - natural or synthetic - would be exhausted. Like running too many programs at once, but on purpose.

This was… not like that. It was so much more complex. The buildup wasn’t an increase in pleasure itself, in fact, he couldn’t seem to pinpoint where it was actually coming from. It was the pleasurable sensations that were causing it, clearly, but it was making his whole body tense up involuntarily, and all of his processes were freezing to make way for the feelings rolling through him. It didn’t feel _bad_ , not at _all_. It forced him to focus even more on those good feelings, but the fact that it was all involuntary was what was so frightening. Even if whatever his body was preparing for on its own was going to be wonderful, he didn’t trust it if it was going to force him to release control.

Still, it took some strength to wrench himself free from her touch. He increased the flow of his jets to carry himself independently, and pulled himself far enough away to bring her hand out from inside him.

“Mum,” he exclaimed hoarsely, his voice still weak, inhaling deeply into his ventilation system, willing the cool air to weaken the (not quite literal) fire starting inside him.

She looked at him, eyes wide, but not panicked. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” He didn’t know, exactly. Was anything really _wrong?_ He wasn’t sure he wanted her to continue, but he _was_ sure he absolutely did _not_ want her to _stop_. It was contradictory. He didn’t know what to say, or how to say it.

“You must understand, this is all incredibly new to me,” he began shakily, “I… I think I’m…” _Reaching orgasm? Achieving climax? About to “cum”?!_ For heaven’s sakes’, they were all so lewd, and he didn’t even know whether or not he wanted to acknowledge it let alone experience it, if it was this overwhelming.

“Almost done?” She finished his sentence, and he sounded a sigh of relief.

“Yes, that’s the one. I… think so, anyway. I can’t be completely sure, of course.” He was sure. He didn’t have an explanation as to why he fibbed.

“So, what’s the problem?” She furrowed her brow, concerned. Understanding, patient. He relaxed. She was so good to him; he felt no need to evade.

“I’m… sort of… frightened. I suppose.” He admitted. “This isn’t what I was expecting it to feel like. It’s just a bit… distressing.”

“Do you want to stop? If you’re not comfortable we can try this another time.”

“Heavens, no!” He exclaimed; then quickly collected his composure. “I mean!.. No… I want this, mum. I _really, truly_ want this.” He fidgeted. “I just have to… Prepare myself, I suppose.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

He chuckled, defeated by his own whim. “Tell me I’m not going to literally detonate?”

She smiled sympathetically, and reached out to pull him close again. “I promise you’re not going to actually _explode_.” The thought seemed a little absurd to her, but she knew she couldn’t begin to know exactly what he was feeling.

He turned to invite her hands back to their previous resting places, one on the keyboard, the other gently encouraging him to hold still. He had to take a moment to relax against her touch once more. She started up again, and it was as if she’d never stopped; coming back to that same height he’d pulled away from. He cried out once as the intensity hit him - the stark contrast between this and having had no stimulation at all as they’d been talking; but she wrapped her arm around him again and soon he was back to being comfortably nestled against her while she continued her exploration.

It started again, and he tensed up completely, focusing hard on letting the feeling take him. This time he was determined to see it through. “You okay?” She asked quietly with her forehead against him; paying close attention to what she was doing now. “Y-Yes-“ he gasped, happy she was continuing to consider his feelings, _not_ so happy she was asking him _anything_ at this particular moment in time, “Don’t stop-… _Ah!_ ” He yelped. It hit a new level, and all his control was rapidly vanishing like he expected it would. He gripped her tight; the only thing he could do to feel grounded as he was elevated by the sensations.

The turning point came, and he had been wrong – it wasn’t like an explosion. It was like something snapped in two, a dam breaking, a tower crumbling, a bridge giving out right under him. The building sensations didn’t erupt, but hit a breaking point and spilled over in one giant wave. He cried out again, a heavy gasp immediately following; his eyes shut tight and he fell silent as he struggled to let himself allow the climax to do all it could to his body. From her hand, straight into his core, he couldn’t help trembling, even as it finally began to die. A few more sparks ran through him spontaneously before it was finished with him completely; ebbing away, taking an immense portion of his own energy with it.

Her hand still moved, but he couldn’t take any more. It was strange, the program still worked, but while he remained sensitive, her touch didn’t feel good anymore. It just felt invasive, uncomfortable. Almost painful? Though he couldn’t be sure about that last one.

“Stop…Stop.” He barely managed, his voice cracking; his tone quiet.

She did, immediately. “Are you okay?” She asked, worried.

He held up his utensil-free arm in a _‘be with you in a minute’_ motion. There was no way he was prepared to find words when his system was cooling down so rapidly. He didn’t notice how heated he’d become during this experience; (was _she_ okay? She’d held him for most of this, and he had to have been positively burning up!), and he struggled to ‘breathe’ in enough cool air for ventilation to relieve this rattled, empty… _satisfied_ sort of feeling.

There was so much dissonance. The pleasure was gone, and he felt this odd sense of… shame? He didn’t know where it came from, he hadn’t felt a lick of shame until this point! Maybe it was because he hadn’t considered maybe his responses might be unusual, maybe he’d made a fool out of himself being so candid in front of her? No, that couldn’t be it… Maybe it was the simple fact that he had encouraged the woman he had so much respect for to perform this indecent act for him? Of course, she was the one who’d offered. So maybe it was that he’d given in so easily to that offer? Had he let her possess him too wholly? Had he seemed needy? None of these ideas were concrete enough for him to believe any of them could be true, but the ashamed feeling still lingered, and it baffled him more than it bothered him.

But there was also a real, tangible sense of satisfaction. A part of him felt empty, at a loss for what to say, completely overwhelmed by everything that had happened, dizzy and lightheaded. But most of him felt… Content. Shaky, but content. Weight he didn’t even know he was carrying seemed to have lifted away with her touch; and there was a sort of comfortably numb sensation, its purpose seeming to be to separate the outside from in. At this point, for all Codsworth was concerned, just outside that door there could be nothing but fog for miles. He was completely lost in this quiet moment.

When he seemed to regain a little control over his own system, he pressed himself into her again, a request to be embraced. She obliged, wrapping both arms around him while he continued to try and calm down. A few of his eyes came to rest on her shoulder, and he moved forward until his jet nozzle pushed between her knees (being careful not to singe her boots) and his arms fell over her lap with a sigh.

After a few more moments he finally pulled away just a little. No longer quite in her lap, but still embraced, she gave him an expectant look.

“I… I don’t know what to say.” He made a noise that could almost have been a yawn. “Thank you. I wasn’t aware I could experience _anything_ like that.”  


Finally, she smiled at him. A grin spread across her face. “Success?” She gave him two questioning thumbs up.

He laughed, finding himself feeling much more grounded, aware and, in general, just a good mood. “I think we can say that. Yes. Absolutely.”

“How do you feel?”  


He gave a little whistle. “Honestly?” She nodded her head. “I feel a little… Dirty, I suppose.”

“Really?”

“But also _quite_ satisfied, and a little lightheaded - but mostly I’m _entirely_ elated. I’m so pleased we were able to do this, mum.”

And that was the truth. If he could have smiled back at her, he would have. Amidst the shakiness and lingering indecency and unfamiliar fullness, there was a wonderful lack of anxiety. He felt no need to hide anything from her, or worry he was saying the right thing. He was content.

“Me too.” She told him softly, adding gentle kisses as punctuation.  


The holotape removed, she was almost finishing putting the last screw into his back panel when a thought hit him. “Should I do you, now?” He asked, not thinking. He quickly realized that this offer might not be perfectly valid, looking at the ends of his arms, from tool to tool. None of them were very… friendly-looking.

“No way.” She smiled, “I’m exhausted.”  


He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or let down. A little of both. Pleasing her was going to be half the fun, wasn’t it? But he knew he was currently ill-equipped…

“Tomorrow?” She yawned. His demeanor brightened.

“Yes!” He replied, a little bit giddy, fiddling with her blankets, sort of awkwardly helping her tuck herself into bed. “Sounds like a plan to me.”  


His pincer came to rest gently on her face. “Sleep well, mum.”

“You too.” She yawned.  


He tried not to laugh. “Okay, I will.” She really _was_ tired. All things considered though, he wondered if it was really all that absurd an idea. He did feel quite drained, and anyway couples usually slept beside one another, didn’t they?

Smiling within himself, he settled down next to the small bed, and with a complacent sigh, prepared for idle mode.


End file.
